


Full Service

by CommonDisappointment (orphan_account)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Kink Discovery, M/M, Objectification, at work, because of course it is everything happens at work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 05:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10181570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CommonDisappointment
Summary: Just like Susan. A Lazy Susan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I got an ask on tumblr about officeslut!Vernon and uhhh I got carried away.

 

Arin strolls into the main area, forms and a pen in one hand and piece of toast in the other. He moves to sit at the table, but there’s boxes and papers and pieces of random projects everywhere. It’s pretty much being used for storage - not a single space available to write on. 

Seeing Vernon, who happens to be looking in this direction as he talks with Ross and Jack, Arin takes a generous bite and motions for Vernon come closer. The hand with the papers and pen makes an awkward spinning gesture, inviting Vernon to turn around, “Stand still, I need you to be my table for a sec.” 

Now, if it had just been telling him “I need to sign this, can I use your back,” it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. But something about “I need you to _be my table_ ” hits Vernon particularly hard and he goes stiff as a board, rigid and unmoving until he’s given leave to relax.

“Uh.. Yeah, okay, sure.” 

The pen digs into his shoulders and spine as it sweeps across the page settled against his back. Each individual letter, each flick of the wrist with a signature, he feels it all, can almost hear the sound of the draw of the ink, and he’s suddenly aware of how hypersensitive he is. Every sensation, every sound, it’s exceedingly louder and more intense than he remembers. It’s almost soothing really, the slow droning of the scribbling, the sporadic but repetitive pressure.

Vernon’s shoulders start to tremble, partially from the effort of remaining so still, partially from anxiety to his commitment to this bit of object-play Arin didn’t know he’d awoken within him. 

He’s keenly aware of the sounds of Arin sucking his fingers, and something tickles the back of his mind, making him want Arin’s dirty fingers rubbing on him, using him like tissue, cleaning himself with Vernon’s clothes and skin. _Using him._  He barely holds back a shudder at the thought, just in time to be brought back to reality with Arin’s voice.

“Arright, thanks bud. You can be human again.”

He relaxes instantly, and the wash of relief partnered with the elation of successfully following orders, successfully being someone’s _object_... That’s something new and lovely to get used to, it does something in the pit of his stomach but he doesn’t examine it too closely, deciding to continue his experiment.

Later, he finds Dan laid out but obviously uncomfortable, his lanky body sunken into a beanbag chair, huffing gustily with a pout clear as day on his face.

“What’s up, buddy? Anything I can do?” 

There’s sincerity in his offer to help, but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s looking to be useful in a more physical way.

Dan looks to Vernon mournfully, shrugging as he mumbles, “Not unless you know how to be a decent pillow.”

_Perfect._

“C’mere,” Vernon insists, gently ushering Dan out of the beanbag chair and guiding him toward the empty grump room. “Everybody’s out to lunch right now, you can come nap in here for a bit.”

“But don’t you have stuff to be-”

“Yeah, my buddy Dan needs to lie down and needs a pillow.” He gestures to himself, very Vana White. “I’m that pillow.”

Dan chuckles wearily but doesn’t protest, instead nodding and yawning as if to cement Vernon’s point. They get settled onto the couch and Vernon carefully angles himself, his butt tucked into the corner and his thighs creating a soft slope. Dan leans comfortably against Vernon’s lap, facing outward toward the TV and the dim blue lights of the auxiliary power.

“Mm, you got comfy legs V,” Dan whispers into the fabric of Vernon’s skinny jeans. The sensation of his beard against Vernon’s legs through the material is so much more pronounced than usual - he doesn’t feel like this any other time he’s cuddled with anyone. 

But being a pillow is different.

Pillows feel all kinds of things.

His fingers travel to a tuft of Dan’s dark brown ringlets that settle near his crotch, and Vernon can’t help but play with them, run the strands over his fingertips, memorizing the feathery light texture. Instantly, his brain takes off, parroting that sensation all over his thighs. His legs swarm with the tingling softness of Dan’s curls, the hair flowing and shifting lazily with each of their breaths, Vernon’s soft pooch of a tummy gently guiding Dan’s head forward and back as he inhales and exhales.

It’s at this point that Vernon realizes how quiet Dan has been, how consistent his breaths have been. Angling his head, he catches Dan’s languid features, serene and drooping, even suspects a bit of drool escaping his lip on one side, but he doesn’t mind. A smile involuntarily stretches his face, and Vernon sighs gently, wrapping an arm over Dan’s shoulders and leaning his head back to recline on the cushion.

He’s not a great blanket, but Dan only asked for a pillow.

He seemed to make a decent pillow anyway.

In his slumber, Dan shifts, curling in on himself and turning in place. Vernon pauses, waiting for him to get comfortable again, and then stops to hold his breath.

Dan resettles himself, only this time with his forehead and the bridge of his nose tucked up against Vernon’s stomach, his ear pressing directly against the half-chub Vernon has been trying to restrain.

It’s at that moment Brian strolls into the recording room, stopping dead when he sees Vernon sitting there with Dan in his lap. 

“Uh, Vernon?” Brian inquires, his eyebrow raised and a bemused smirk playing at his lips.

“Dan needed to take a nap but he couldn’t get comfortable, so I offered to let him use my lap as a pillow,”

would have been the right thing to say, a very clear and concise sentence that probably would not have earned Vernon the look he got, when instead, all Vernon could muster is

“I’m a pillow.”

There it is.

That smile that Vernon never knows how to read, but knows it _always_ means something.

“Mmmmfgfhao,” a noise comes from Vernon’s belly.

He sits back to give Dan some breathing room looking down at him with concern, “Sorry man, what’d you say?”

“Good pillow.”

Brian laughs from behind them. “I bet he’s good at lots of things.”

Vernon’s ears immediately turn to pillars of fire. _He knows_.

Dan starts to stretch, twisting and whining and squeaking as he works out the pops and the kinks. Groaning with satisfaction, he sits up away from Vernon, leaning his head on the younger man’s chest for a moment. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow you, V, I feel a lot better.”

“Hey, no problem Dan, glad to help out.”

“Aren’t you always?” Brian teases from behind them, but in a light enough tone, Dan doesn’t catch on.

“Man I’m starving, I’m gonna go get some food,” Dan says as he makes his way out. He reaches the door, but turns to ask, “You guys want anything?”

“Vernon’s not hungry, are you V?” 

There’s that smile again. And it has those piercing “I dare you” eyes to go with it. He knows, and he wants to play. Well, Vernon decides, at least he’s enthusiastic about the idea.

“Nah, not really. What about you Brian?”

“Yeah, actually,” his grin widens and he turns to Dan, “Think you’d be willing to get me a quick bowl of cereal before you head out?”

“Sure man, no problem,” and Dan sets off, the recording room door swinging shut behind him.

“So.”

“So,” Brian replies, “you’ve been a busy boy today.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Vernon tries to play it coy.

“First a table, then a pillow? What, you thought you could just skip footstool?”

Vernon was wrong.

He didn’t just _know_ , he _knew **everything**._  

“When he gets back, I’m going to set up something for me to watch, and I’m going to eat my cereal and kick my feet up.”

Vernon gulps generously but he doesn’t miss the swelling tightness in his jeans; he’s not sure if it’s Brian’s tone, if it’s the way he’s looking at him, or the way Vernon knows what Brian confirms.

“You are just a footstool. You will not speak, you will not move. You will not look at or address me until I have given you permission.” 

Vernon’s focused on Brian’s face, and it’s terse and sincere and he can’t help the thrumming in his heart as his adrenaline kicks up. But it softens, and he looks earnestly to Vernon with an eyebrow up. Vernon nods enthusiastically, breathing deeply with anticipation. 

Brian’s face shifts into a small bashful smile for a millisecond, and then it’s gone, replaced by complete apathy. Vernon takes his cue, seating himself on the floor beside the couch, waiting to be put to use. 

Dan comes back with Brian’s cereal, carefully tiptoeing about.

“I filled it a little full, sorry” he laments with a nervous expression, gingerly handing the bowl to Brian.

“Oh that’s no problem, we’ll be careful.”

“’We?’” Dan’s question comes out with a little laugh at the end.

“Yep.”

Dan looks back and forth between Brian and Vernon with an amused expression for a moment before shrugging and turning on his heel, walking out of the room.

“Have fun!” His jovial voice disappears behind the closing door.

Brian settles onto the couch, his body still and sure, trying not to spill any of his contents, and he clicks on the TV, putting on an episode of some show they all like. It makes everyone laugh. He lifts one leg, stretching it out parallel to the ground expectantly; Vernon takes his cue, shuffling underneath Brian’s calf and letting it settle across the width of his back, his knees and hands pressing into the carpet. Brian’s other leg follows his first, crossing at the ankles and shifting into the middle of the ‘footstool.’ 

Vernon remains perfectly still, knees and elbows bent, hands shoulder width apart and splayed out against the carpet fibers, head down and eyes shut. He keeps his breathing steady, trying to create as little movement as possible - he is supposed to be an object after all. And objects don’t move.

He wishes someone would tell his hard-on that, though. It’s twitching and bouncing with effort and he’s positive Brian can tell, despite that he should be pretty well hidden.

The show drags on forever, and the weight of his legs seems to get heavier with each commercial break. He can feel himself slipping, his back and shoulders dipping more than they should, his ass slowly rising into the air as subspace settles warmly over him. He tries to straighten himself out without adjusting too quickly, unwilling to incur Brian’s punishment (whatever that would be - maybe another episode, maybe harsher treatment, maybe never doing this again, who knows, but Brian’s punishments were nothing if not effective).

The familiar slurping sound of the end of the bowl meets Vernon’s ears, and he silently cheers to himself when the TV turns off. He keeps his spine as rigid as possible, the resolve returning to his limbs as the weight of Brian’s legs disappears.

Gentle hands settle on Vernon’s shoulders and Brian eases him up off the ground, guiding him to the couch to sit. He rubs Vernon’s back and shoulders tenderly, whispering softly in a reassuring voice.

“You did very good for all of us today.”

“Mmmglad,” Vernon manages to muster, his eyelids drooping lazily with each brushing of Brian’s firm hands.

“So are we,” Brian presses a soft kiss to Vernon’s temple, and he can’t stop the little smile of victory that pulls at his lips.

 

He could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Lots more less-coherent content over on [tumblr](http://sindoo.tumblr.com)


End file.
